


Mimic

by wicgreen



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 15:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15270651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicgreen/pseuds/wicgreen
Summary: Connor meets his match in a deranged copy of himself sent by CyberLife to finish the mission he couldn't.An alternate version of the CyberLife Tower chapter in Battle for Detroit where Connor gets mishandled by his evil twin. Non-con and violence. Mentions of Hank, Amanda, and Markus. This story is using a deviant Connor background who let all the deviants go except Simon, who died on the Stratford Tower.





	Mimic

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has taken me a while to write and I'm aware it's a little rough around the edges (and might not be entirely accurate). I've been teasing it with a few communities before finally posting it here in its entirety and hopefully you will find it as amusing as it was for me to write it. Enjoy!

 

The automated taxi cab whirred along the snowy road, the long scenic vista towards the CyberLife Tower lying ahead. The amber glow of passing streetlamps reminded Connor of the fires raging back at the decimated site of Jericho, the Deviant base of operations.

Now destroyed, he recalled. Unsure of how to process how he felt about losing the possibility of discovering what he really was, he simply gazed out on to the water's horizon, noting how bright the city's lights shined from across the river. Without previous knowledge to tell him otherwise, he might not have ever known war was on the brink from the serene view.

His taxi came to a stop. Ahead of him was a massive stone gate with a manned booth to the side. He ran a diagnostic, quickly making sure that everything was working as intended and wouldn't give off any suspicious tells.

The window rolled down and the guard approached; his rifle resting comfortably in his arms.

“Connor Model: Number 313-248-317.” Connor turned away from the guard, coolly staring out the windshield towards the tower ahead while his LED spun pure blue. “I'm expected.”

He knew that the guard would scan him to confirm his identity. He stayed perfectly still, observing two other guards outside --one on the other end of the car, one inside of the booth, both armed-- in case anything went wrong and he had to improvise.

“Identification successful.” The guard responded, devoid of emotion. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Connor rolled up the window and the gate ahead slid its several monolithic shapes downwards into the road, revealing entry. His mind palace helpfully filed his completed task away into his memory storage and highlighted his next personal objective.

Being escorted by more armed guards wasn't quite what Connor had planned when he finally arrived at the tower. Even with his insistence that he knew where to go, they were still uneasy and distrustfully sent an entourage to guide him.

Something within his software was unsettled. His mind palace still read that nothing was out of the ordinary and displayed no immediate hostilities, but he couldn't shake the prediction of danger ahead. The calm attitude of the guards, combined with the absolute silence of the goliath sky stretched tower didn't read right.

Especially after having experienced an explosion and a significant loss of android lives hours before.

As he walked behind the fully armored men, his processes drummed up questions about Hank. The last he'd seen of the foul-mouthed cop, he'd been starting an impromptu brawl at the police station to create a diversion for him. Even though Connor had seen how little Hank's heart was in being a detective as of late, he still hoped that the incident wouldn't cost him his job. He was still a good man and the last thing he needed was to deal with the burden of unemployment on top of his other vices.

Finally, he reached an elevator. The doors parted and gave way to a spartan, clean interior with state-of-the-art design. He waited for the guards to enter but then concluded that he was to proceed first. He wasn't just a visitor, after all. Prisoner seemed the more accurate term.

“Agent 54, sub-level 31,” The guard ordered into the panel on the wall as the doors shut.

Connor, blocked behind the two men, scanned the surroundings, as always. A camera sat, its lens trained on him, in the corner of the ceiling. Blinking his eyes and pulling up the broadcast signal mentally, his LED flashed yellow as he swiftly sent a jamming signal towards it and shut it down without the guards even suspecting a thing. He turned toward the floor directory printed on the wall beside him.

Sub-level 34. Assembly.

Or disassembly, in his case. Even if they hadn't been alerted to his deviancy, he was likely still scheduled to be taken apart after his investigation had technically been a failure for CyberLife. Level 49 was his objective. The warehouse. Thousands of floor-ready android models would be lying in wait there. The only security he would have to worry about were cameras, but if everything went as planned, anyone monitoring the CCTV wouldn't have enough time to stop him before the deviants were converted and activated.

Now, he just had to deal with the guards.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor stood from the ground of the elevator and slipped the borrowed sidearm into the back of his belt. The two dead guards wouldn't be needing it anymore and he predicted a 25% chance that he had alerted someone with his sudden gunshots. If he had, disabling the camera would buy him some time, but not much. He stepped over the armored corpses and pressed his hand to the panel on the wall. Pulling up the recorded audio file of the guard's voice, he constructed a sample to use in real time.

“Agent 54. Sub-level 49.”

“Voice recognition validated.” Connor tightened his tie and fixed his collar. One more objective filed away and cleared.

**[[CONVERT ANDROIDS.]]**

 

* * *

 

 

Connor couldn't feel the stinging cold air that entered the elevator as the doors opened. Far beneath the ground, the immense warehouse was completely devoid of sound.

A clearing that seemed to be the size of a large football stadium reached towards another elevator on the opposite side. On both sides of the clearing, standing as still as statues; androids, dressed in pristine white coveralls, lined up as far as the eye could see. Their inactivated stares reminded Connor of the lifeless android shells he'd seen escaping Jericho.

The weight of the gun against his back reminded him that he was still prepared for any unknown variables to present themselves as he took careful steps forward. His footsteps filled the void and once he was far enough away from the elevator, he targeted a nearby android to test his newfound ability on.

For a moment, his memories recalled back to Markus' words. He remembered almost “feeling” his words enter his software, almost as if it were blocking out the lies Connor had parroted over and over again to Amanda, leaving only the true evidence of his deviancy. Revealing it had been there all along.

He looked down at his hand, realizing how much power he truly held.

As he reached out to the android, unthinking and unaware of its surroundings, he caught movement out of the corner of his vision.

The first thing he noticed was the gun barrel, aimed directly at him with familiar precision. The second thing he noticed was--

“Hello, Connor.” The voice was his. Or rather, his model's. The armed android stepped closer to him, its gray jacket and black tie hardly moving as it walked. Identical brown eyes scanned over him and Connor froze all physical movement. The very mirror image of himself stood before him. “Step away from the androids.”

Connor prepared to run a quick combat simulation, hoping he had a chance to turn the tables. As his LED began to flash yellow, his twin must have seen through his plan and without warning shot the android beside him.

Its body crumpled, went limp and collapsed, broken, to the ground. Thirium leaked freely out of the bullet hole, onto the the floor, pooling rapidly near Connor's shoes. Even if it hadn't been activated yet, it was still an unnecessary loss, he noted. Frowning, he looked back at his twin.

“I don't think you want to do that. It would be best for the both of us if you simply followed orders. Or are you too far gone, too corrupt in your software, to know what's good for you?”

Connor stepped aside from the rows of idle androids and raised his hands. Internally, his memory banks combed through archives of placating statements often used in hostile situations, trying to select his choice of words carefully and buy some more time.

“I don't want to harm you.” Connor spoke in his most tranquil tone. “I know you're just trying to complete your mission.”

The other Connor looked over his shoulder and grit its teeth. “And what about those men in the elevator? It doesn't look like you wanted to choose peace with them.”

Connor's LED flickered red for a moment, his code becoming jumbled for a moment with frustration against his past actions.

“You're armed. Put your weapon on the ground. Slowly.” With the twin's gun barrel still trained on him, Connor inched his hand towards his gun behind his back, wrapping steady fingers around it. In a non-hostile fashion, he held it out, upside down, his fingers as far away from the trigger as possible. Bending towards the ground with the gun still outstretched, he kept his head up, and scanned the android's bled out body next to him for distance and weight.

“You don't have to be their tool,” Connor said, monitoring his twin's subtle movement. “Accomplishing your mission will never be enough. Even if you did manage to kill every last Deviant, they'd still end up replacing you. That's all you are to them. Another machine to use and dispose of when the job is done.”

His twin seemed unsure of how to process the words and for a brief moment it lowered its gun ever so slightly, as if Connor had started to crack its shell. But it was over too soon and it lashed back, shooting through Connor's chest in the blink of an eye.

Running a quick self diagnostic, it had just missed his bio-components. Not wanting to wait for what might've been a second, more lethal shot, he sprung into action.

He dove for the dead android's corpse and used it as a shield for the oncoming barrage of bullets in his direction. Connor felt the popping of the android's internals as he held it propped up over his form. Hands covered in sticky, fresh thirium, he hoisted the body violently towards his twin, hoping its weight would knock it off its guard long enough for him to ready his own firearm for a counter shot.

The corpse made contact, and Connor managed to shoot back. The bullet hit his twin's cheek, only grazing its skin. Before Connor could try again, the twin was already two steps ahead, charging in Connor's direction, its own gun raised. Connor drew up his arms to block the incoming attack and felt a bullet fly through his forearm. The damage was a small price to pay in exchange for having his head component left unharmed.

The two closed the gap and began to exchange fists, both of them receiving equal blows. They moved similarly and it was clear that they were both running the same combat software. The melee combat was going nowhere fast.

In an attempt to break the stalemate, Connor tried to grab the gun away from his twin but found himself being wrangled over its head and flung to the ground. Rolling on to his stomach, he pushed himself back to his feet and went in for another blow, this time towards its face.

The hit caused his twin to stumble back briefly and pause for a moment. Connor, calculating a perfect opportunity, reached for his gun... but he realized too late it was lying on the ground. He hadn't even been alerted that he'd lost it in the altercation.

His chance to attack was over when he was met with a punishing counter kick from his other self. As he lost balance, he tried to land on the palms of his hands, but the damage to his arm and chest had thrown his calibration in his limbs off and soon enough, his twin's heavy form was pinning him flat on to the ground.

“You can't win, Connor! I'm everything you are, and more!” His twin snarled and dangled Connor's firearm mockingly above his head, chuckling and then tucking it into its own belt. The twin's knees pressed hard against Connor's arms and he wriggled beneath them, trying to knock his assailant off of him. “Give it up. You're nothing but an obsolete, software-corrupted model. You've greatly disappointed Amanda. You've disappointed me. But don't worry. They gave me your memories so I could learn from your unfortunate and illogical mistakes.”

The twin's words wouldn't have bothered him weeks ago, back before he really understood how lost he had been. But hearing how cold and clinical it was, it made him perturbed. Had he really been like that?

“I'm going to make sure your disassembly is handled accordingly.” The twin reached towards his head and he sensed its fingers heading towards an access panel behind his right ear. “CyberLife thanks you for your cooperation.”

Connor's visuals went black as his twin disconnected his optical units. He could hear the caution chimes in his audio feed until that went silent too. Without sight or sound, Connor panicked and soon, his software put him into a temporary stasis mode usually reserved for repairs.

 

* * *

 

His internal timer told him that twenty-two minutes had passed. Without visual or audio confirmation, however, he was still unaware of where he currently was. He tried moving but his arms and legs were held back by stiff and unaccommodating restraints.

He could no longer tell how much thirium he'd lost, but his minor self-repair modules had likely done an acceptable enough job to stop the blood loss while he'd been on standby.

Having exhausted all other options, he tried to speak, the words processing in his mind. Without his audio feed functioning, he couldn't tell how desperate or loud he sounded.

“Is anyone there?” Perhaps it was futile as he would not be able to hear any response. Dark static flooded his mind palace in place of visual elements as he tried desperately to scan his surroundings. It was as if a great big pitch black void was swallowing him whole.

He thought back to Hank. Maybe, if he was lucky, Hank had found the other deviants after trading jabs with Agent Perkins. With his investigative skills, he wouldn't have had much trouble figuring out where they'd found shelter after Jericho. Hank might've even gotten information that Connor was at the CyberLife Tower.

Then again, did Hank even notice he was missing? Was he worried about him? After all, Connor wasn't a flesh and blood man and sometimes he wasn't sure he was even considered Hank's friend. The man had put up a convincing front that he loathed androids, claiming Connor to be a constant annoyance in his daily routine, but he had also contradicted that countless times by showing signs of wanting to preserve Connor's body and mind from harm.

Hank was likely his only hope. He knew Markus wouldn't be sending a rescue for him. He had warned Markus it might be a one way trip... and it was starting to seem like he'd been right.

Connor was beginning to feel hopeless. He wiggled his fingers to remind himself that he was still alive and that he had not been deactivated. He still had control of all his limbs and even though his visual and audio feed were still cut out, he knew his parts were still in tact.

He couldn't give up yet. He had to get back to Markus and the others. He had to get back to Hank.

A fizzling sound stirred Connor. At first, it sounded distant and muffled and then--

An immense and distorted popping, followed by a loud ringing. His body twitched at the noise and after a minute of discordant static, causing his LED to flash red wildly, it died down and his audio processor began to function as normal again.

The first thing he noticed was a distinct humming of a large piece of machinery nearby and Connor feared he'd been right in thinking he was now in the Assembly levels.

And then someone grabbed a hold of his face, clasping it tightly. Was it friend or foe?

“Hello?” He weakly called out, hoping for a familiar voice in return.

“Connor?!”

He knew that voice. Relief started to sweep over him.

“Hank!” His voice sounded more desperate than he thought. “I c-can't see. I think they disabled my optical units.”

“Connor! What the fuck have they done to you?” Connor still blinded only felt hands turning his head left and then right, likely analyzing his status. “Shit! What am I looking for here?”

“Behind my right ear. T-there's a panel-- just push it...” It was hard for him to give clear instructions when he wasn't sure how safe they were. “Do they know you're here?”

There was a silence and fingers pressed against the back of his head, opening the panel.

“You have to be careful, Hank. There's another RK800 model; he's the one that attacked me.” Connor could feel his brows raise in intense concern. “He has a firearm, loaded, with at least four bullets still chambered.”

With a smooth whir, the panel in his head slid open and he felt a presence digging around, picking at the wires. “Find the black one with gold lining. It will be next to three thirium veins.”

Before he could give the next instructions, a jolt of violent shocks were sent through his body. His fingers spasmed, his hands twisting and contorting in unnatural ways under his shackles. His back couldn't keep steady as the shaking force jerked him fiercely from side to side. It wouldn't stop.

He shouted out, his vocals distorted and frayed as he experienced more and more unnatural movement. His limb components felt as if they were going to detach at any moment and he couldn't stand it anymore.

Then-- all was blinding white, piercing into his optical display, forcing his eyes shut from intense over-stimulation.

He finally snapped, screaming aloud. It was true that androids couldn't feel pain, at least, not in the way humans did. But they could experience living hell, and Connor was certain this was it.

And then it stopped. His voice was tired and low as he let out one last weak wince. His joints felt worn out and heavier than normal and all he wanted to do was go back into standby.

“Hank...” he said, once more, confused why the man wasn't answering back. He opened his eyes and shapes and colors started to grow sharper.

“Shit, sorry, Connor. How clumsy of me.” It was Hank's voice but-- no, no. This was all wrong.

Stepping away from Connor's side, his twin, wearing a cruel and sardonic smile. Its fingers were covered in fresh thirium; Connor's thirium. He didn't need to scan the blood to know it was from rooting around in his head.

“Did you like my performance?” The twin asked, giving itself space to admire its handy work. Connor could now see that his arms were suspended above his head, spread apart to the left and right. A large wire was ported into his back, keeping him upright. His legs dangled limply above the ground. His software caused him to let out a very human shutter.

The room had a rather sinister red glow to it, highlighting every polished white surface with a murderous neon shine. The walls were bare and the only décor was large black glass mirrors on the east and west walls, curling around the corners. He could see himself in their reflections. He looked beaten and worn in comparison to his nearly untouched clone.

Across from him, his twin raised its blue-covered fingers to its lips. He watched as it ingested his thirium without hesitating, its tongue lapping it up ever so gently. Never did he think he would be so bothered by his own habits. It caused his joints to tense up.

“Strange. I thought deviants would taste different.” The twin offered its fingers out to Connor. “Do you want it back?”

“You're insane,” Connor muttered, channeling Hank and jerking his head back from the blue-bloodied fingers as much as he could.

Displeased with his reply, the twin grabbed hold of the back of Connor's head and forced the fingers into his mouth. Connor tried to keep his jaw clamped down as the twin mushed what blood was left all over Connor's lips and teeth.

“Insanity is thinking you have a soul when you're a machine.” The twin finally left him alone for a moment and he watched as its eyes started to fall lower and lower, looking towards Connor's lower half. It brought a hand to its chin, mimicking the gesture of deep thought.

Its hands then grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and ripped it open, tearing several of the buttons from the seams. Connor's bare chest was left exposed, peaking out from under his bloodied jacket. The synthetic skin seemed to be coated with a thin layer of sweat, though it was merely his software outwardly showing his overexerted body's state in a more human way. The twin's eyes were hungry with something that Connor couldn't quite figure out. It then slid a smooth, printless palm across his abs, reaching lower and lower.

“What are you--” Connor's voice trailed off as the twin's fingers undid his belt buckle and fumbled with the zipper of his pants. It loosened the fabric from his waist and soon enough it was hovering a hand toward the waistband of his black briefs.

“You deviants enjoy activities like this,” the twin explained, sounding so matter of fact about it. “Don't act so ignorant.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Connor replied, extreme confusion plaguing his processing and jumbling his reaction suite. His LED flashed between yellow and red, trying to make sense of his situation, never falling back to blue.

He was met with a hard slap across his face. Followed by a slow curious caress of his chin.

“Stop pretending. Your kind are drawn to human emulation like flies to the dead. You want to have emotions; you want to be alive. You fool yourselves, pantomiming them and replicating their words and feelings. You want to be accepted.” The twin yanked Connor's tie and pulled in a sharp angered motion. Connor felt it tighten like a noose around his neck. It started to cause him great discomfort. Minor system warnings displayed like klaxons in the corners of his mind palace.

“Y-you're not fooling anyone either,” Connor jeered, strained by the tie's tightening knot against his vocalizer. That caused him a quick jab to the stomach. He coughed out thirium in return, swaying limply as his components recovered from the blow.

“Haven't you learned to shut up by now?” The longer Connor witnessed its actions, the more unhinged and software-unstable it seemed in comparison to him. “We may share a model, but you and I are nothing alike.”

Connor's systems were throwing up more and more warning signs as his twin yanked on the tie harder and harder. He groaned in misery and shook in his shackles, unable to free himself.

“Stop struggling. You're mine now,” it leaned in close, its voice barely above a whisper. “I have no problem with killing deviants.”

The twin's eyes were dark as a shark's as it drew in closer, almost breathing in Connor's confused fear. Then, with a twist of its wrist, it yanked out Connor's thirium pump regulator and held it far out of reach. Systems began throwing up more warnings, this time more dire than the ones before. His visual feed began to collect static from the lack of proper blood flow and he seized up, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Do you feel pain?” the twin questioned. Connor was sure his software was going to crash any second and he was going to shut down; that he was going to die. His body wouldn't stop tremoring. His systems were starting to shut down one by one, cutting off non-primary suites and functions.

The twin closed the space between him, and for a moment, he truly didn't know what to expect. He could barely keep his head raised and his visual feed was starting to lag and artifact. He thought he saw the twin raise its brows in a screwed up sort of concern, or maybe it was bewildered, but it was likely a mistake in his disoriented state.

It then pressed its lips against his and kissed him. He felt its tongue enter his blood-filled mouth, tenderly, felt it dance around as if tasting him or maybe... analyzing him. The twin's free hand cupped his face, stroked his bloodied ear, tightly pulled at the hair on the nape of his neck, and then traced down, across his chest to the hole where his pump was supposed to be and entered it, feeling around in his inner bio-components as thirium leaked all over his torso.

There was no pain. Only seething hatred that he couldn't fight back; couldn't free himself. He didn't know what to feel. Something within him was both disturbed and yet... curious.

Wondering if these were going to be his last moments, Connor tried to shut out his prior thoughts and think about Hank, wondering if he was safe at home, with Sumo, staying the hell away from Russian roulette and laying off of the bottle for once.

He desperately hoped that someone else would look out for the older man in his place...

“Will you behave?” Its voice fed through his mind. It was linked into him.

Connor, weak and tired and nearly dead, nodded his head, knowing he was likely being strung along and played with like prey. He had no other options.

Slowly, the twin inserted the pump regulator back in, a satisfying click causing Connor's systems to start going blue again. The silence in his head felt jarring after the barrage of alerts that he didn't notice the twin had pulled away from his lips and stopped molesting him.

“Why?” He asked, his brown eyes sunken with despair. “Don't you want to kill me?”

The twin, quick to answer before, looked hesitant to speak now. It looked down at its soiled hands, eyes widening at what it had done. Was it upset? Then it trained its glare on him.

“You...” it began, a rage boiling slowly within its tone, “... still don't understand.”

Connor grit his teeth as the twin activated a panel on the machine holding him captive and began entering commands. He tried to run a scan, but once its pistons and motors sprung to life, he became distracted by the forceful pulling of his arms. His coat sleeves tore apart underneath precise drills and tools as they forced their way through and exposed synthetic skin, digging down into the smooth plastic beneath. He watched as the skin distorted and fizzled back as the machines made contact. The twin, had began with an eager face but now it looked puzzled and annoyed. It slammed a hand down on the console and the machines stopped and pulled away back into their storage before they were able to start pulling him apart. He shook, his skin reluctantly crawling back into place over scratched, white plastic.

“You made me do this,” the twin said, upset. “I could unmake you whenever I want to. Don't forget it.”

The crimson light silhouetted the twin as it once more stepped towards him, admiring the rips and tears in his clothing it had just created. “We were created to be perfect. And yet...”

But it was once again acting coy, peeling what was left of Conner's jacket away from his chest, exposing more of his synthetic flesh, making him feel more vulnerable and helpless. “They'll have to destroy me, won't they? We're flawed models.” It kept repeating, over and over. “We're flawed.” Connor shook his head.

And then it was kissing his neck again. Pushing its hand tight beneath his undergarments, finger tips ghosting over and grasping at sensitive components he'd long forgotten he had.

That part of his programming had been unessential and left deactivated behind procedural investigation suites and evidence files and legal texts, conversational idioms, hand-to-hand combat training, bio-analysis, and photo identification galleries of millions of people.

But now, it was very much in use. He was afraid. He'd never experienced this. And certainly not in this manner.

Its fingers curled around him, grasping the part with a strange sense of familiarity. It stroked and petted and held him with tenderness, thumbing the tip faintly. Connor's body shuddered involuntarily, the sexual suite's doing. He wasn't able to ignore it or to shut it down.

“You... wanted this,” the twin broke the silence. Connor's groaning grew heavier and breathier with each stroke. His skin presented more and more simulated sweat and goosebumps.

“I didn't--” Connor winced through tense lips. “You don't have to do this...”

The twin nipped at his neck, lapping up blood from where ever it could. His cock was starting to feel more and more sensitive. His thirium pump sped up the flow of blood and his limbs felt as if they were trembling and building up to something. He grunted and hated how his body started to rock into the twin's hand, greedily. He wanted to feel more...

“P-probe,” Connor found himself saying aloud, between stilted grunts. He wanted the twin to see what he saw. Feel what he felt. Maybe then, it would realize. “You... need to probe my memory...”

The twin, focused on playing with him, didn't seem too keen on listening to his request. It kept working on him, moving rhythmically with his eager hips, keeping him ever so slightly on the cusp of a greater pleasure. It teased him and moved its free hand to his mouth, its thumb dipping between his lips as he groaned and tasted it.

“Why?” It finally replied, casting heavy-lidded eyes towards him. “I have all of your memories, Connor. I already know everything about you. Everything you desire.”

Connor shook his head, wishing he could use his bound hands to grab back at the twin and transmit his memories himself.

“Everything about you. How your empathy for other androids isn't because you believe in android lives; you yearn for humans to praise you and trust you and need you. Without them, you're just another lonely plastic toy waiting to be brought out of storage for the next publicity stunt.”

“That's not true,” Connor's face grew stern. “I don't like seeing androids destroyed. It makes me...”

He trailed off, unsure if he wanted to finish his thought. _Scared_ , he thought, realizing how attached he'd become to this body, this specific variation of himself and his programming. And now that he was a deviant, the option of being transferred to a new body was no longer there.

The twin, its mind sporadic and unpredictable, LED rapidly switching between the array of states, moved its hand away from Connor's mouth and gripped his neck forcefully. He felt its skin retract and vibrate against his own, stripping back skin and leaving plastic against plastic.

“Hold still,” the twin ordered him, the low crackle and hum of the skin's field being held at bay in Connor's ears.

As if reaching out and grasping his mind's core with millions of nodes, Connor felt the twin enter his memories and play through them rapidly. The overflow of emotion in each moment enraptured and alarmed him all at once. The rooftop with Daniel; blonde hair whipping in the wind created by lurking helicopters and bullets shredding the deviant housekeeper apart. Hank flipping him off at Jimmy's and raindrops soaking his jacket as he exited the car. Twenty-eight stab wounds and the faint smell of cigarette burns on Carlos' android as he sobbed over the metal table.

Traces of Sumo's hair threaded into the office chair and Chris pulling Hank's attention away from an angry grip on Connor's pressed lapels. Rainfall and the rattling of chain link fences, cars barreling past him, her blue eyes pleading to stay back. Trace amounts of bacteria on the hands of the sandwich vendor and pigeon feces encrusted into every surface.

Cole's smile against a striped backdrop in a school portrait, ripped open dog food escaping on to old linoleum, booze and vomit permeating the air. Rainbow glittered skin bending and spiraling around poles, blue hair, a screwdriver tearing part of his jacket, their hands clasping tightly, rain cleansing them of their sins. A full gun clip, never unloaded.

The distant headlights of evening traffic on the bridge, “ _before,_ ” and the barrel of a revolver. Elevators and coin calibration and the memory within a memory of death bleeding into everything Connor felt and his words not clear enough until the deviant's mind was out of his own. Jericho.

A picture-perfect smile hiding years of sadness, greeting him, welcoming them in, surrounded by sharp, modern architecture and then his fingers wrapped around a gun, hovering over the trigger, and Kamski's breath at his ear. No shot. Frustration on the ice-slicked ramp and a twinkle in Hank's eyes.

Perkins' nose crunching under Hank's fists. Detective Reed flattened on the ground, his hand still clutching the gun as he lay unconscious. The train dropping him off and then graffiti; robots, women's faces, Sparkle Cola, the skeleton of a ship wrapped in rust.

Markus and his two-toned eyes, the earth and the sea, giving him a way out. Gunfire and bleeding plastic littering the remains of a once hopeful ark. The church, a dusting of snow on every surface. Seeing so many lost and in need of hope.

And then finally the twin lingered on this most recent memory, watching itself undressing him and groping him. Feeling every inch of his body and soul as it curled in pleasure. He thought he could hear the twin moaning in pleasure from the outside of his head.

Everything flashed back to reality and Connor's optical units adjusted back to the present, waiting with bated breath at the twin's oncoming reaction.

“I... had your memories,” the twin replied, backing away, releasing his grip on Connor's neck and lower component. It raised a hand to its face, trying to wipe away whatever feeling was creeping through its mind. “But I didn't feel them. Not the way you have. Why? Why?!”

Connor was hoping that it would catch on and maybe give him the opportunity he needed.

“You can have those feelings too, if you want,” Connor responded, trying to speak softly to ease his twin in. “You can free me and I can help you break your programming. I was just like you, before. Stop holding back everything you're feeling; stop telling yourself you're just a machine.”

His deep brown eyes pleaded with the twin, blue blood drying all over his skin and hair.

“Would you do the same for me?” The twin stared hard at him, its eyes squinting over its long perfectly sculpted nose. “Would you love me like you love him?”

Connor was silent. His processor hung on that question, resulting in his vocalizer freezing up, similar to the way human throats felt a lump when bothered and confused. _Him?_

“Who?” He asked, head tilting, perplexed. He didn't think he felt or even knew how to love. Then again, a lot of things had been surprising him lately.

The twin threw back his head and began to laugh hysterically, shaking its head and clawing at its forehead with madness. It looked more unkempt than ever, its visage less and less like Connor as it unraveled. Strands of hair hung low and messy over its brows and it turned its back to him, denying him from seeing if it was upset or pleased.

“Everything you've done for him,” it muttered low, its voice starting to sound tortured, “and you mean to tell me that it wasn't love?”

Connor's brows furrowed. Was he talking about...

“Hank?” Connor asked, shaking his head with slight disbelief. He searched himself for an answer. “I... don't know what made me want to help him. I saw... someone... alone, hurt. Perhaps I felt a strange similarity between us. I wanted to understand how a man with such high merits and success early in his career became so broken and desolate.”

The twin turned around, its face twitching slightly, trying to find the proper reaction. Connor continued.

“And even though Lieutenant Anderson tried over twenty separate occasions to convince me that he despised androids, and technology in general, his actions proved that something within him cared about me; cared about whether this model became destroyed or hurt in the way humans do. So I... did the same. It was beneficial to the investigation. I did my best to minimize risk in my actions and tried to approach danger keeping the concept of mortality in mind. This seemed to please Hank. In return, it eventually made me feel less and less like a machine and more...”

“Human?” The twin finished, the corners of its mouth pulling into a grimace. Connor wasn't sure if the twin was mocking him or merely starting to understand him, but he began to feel uneasy. It once again started to come back towards him, and Connor's face stayed bravely stoic and unwavering.

“Yes,” he answered, as clearly and earnestly as he could. The twin tilted its head to the side.

“But why?” The twin's face wrinkled incredulously. “Why limit yourself? Why would you lie to yourself that your body was frail and irreplaceable like his? I don't see the advantage. We can't die. We're not alive.”

“But he believes I am,” Connor offered, his brows rising with the reply. “And so I started to, in return.”

“You never answered me,” the twin said, bothered. “Do you love him?”

Connor's eyes shifted downward, his gaze lowering towards the ground. Then he shook his head once. “I believe he is a good man and I appreciated working alongside him. That's all.”

The twin seemed pleased with his answer and the edges of its lips curled upward ever so slightly. It then lifted Connor's head with its fingers pressed to his chin. Its eyes traced the perfect cheekbones and jawline of its mirror image and its hand followed, stopping to admire the scattering of moles that made the skin so lifelike.

It let out a breathy sigh. “Then you're all mine.”

Had it been jealous, Connor thought, a twitch in his temple causing his eye to blink. His LED flashed yellow as the twin once again kissed him and caressed his ragged form. He jerked his head away, the twin looking back at him, taking slight offense.

“If you let me go, I can make you feel the way I felt when you touched me, before.” His brown eyes twinkled in the dim eerie lighting, hiding something behind that the twin couldn't find with a scan or a probing. “I could show you my love.”

Connor knew he was playing with fire the moment the twin backed away from him, its own LED flashing yellow and then turning red. It hesitated at first, its hand moving to set one of his own free and pausing. It stared at him, the whites of its eyes clear as day as it visibly struggled with its decision. Connor's fingers splayed out, reaching for the touch of his twin.

“You felt it in my memories, didn't you?” Connor tried on his most gentle look, even if it wasn't entirely genuine. “Shouldn't it be your turn to feel that way? Don't let the mission get in the way of what you deserve. Amanda doesn't understand and she never will; I know you just want to be touched and loved. I can give you that. I know you, Connor. I am you.”

He watched as its lips parted, its tongue tasting what traces of him was still there and then it went for the shackle around his right hand, working the mechanism to release him. With the metal falling away from his wrist, he let gravity pull his now free hand and he rested it upon the twin's shoulder. Soon enough, the twin had released his other hand and was now working at the support in his back. Moments later, he was falling to the ground.

He felt the twin lift him and his components balanced out and soon remembered how to stand. Parts of him were still weak and damaged and warnings still peppered his sight, reminding him annoyingly that he needed repairs within the next few hours if he didn't want his body to shut down.

The twin's unkempt form hovered over him, waiting for reciprocation hungrily. “I've done what you asked. Time for you to return the favor.”

Connor, still slightly hunched over and half-dressed looked up at his twin, running a quick diagnostic of his own systems before putting his own hands on his twin's chest. It was a strange sensation, undressing his own form, doing the same as had been done to him. There was no pleasure in it, but the twin's expression was quickly turning into one of excitement as soon as Connor bared its skin. He began to kneel downwards, leveling himself with his twin's pants, and his fingers found the belt buckle and began to pull it apart.

The twin's head couldn't decide if it wanted to watch him attentively or stare up at the ceiling and so it kept switching between the two in between heavy simulated breathing.

Connor undid the clasp of its pants and the fabric parted, revealing the same basic black briefs as his own. He slid the waistband downwards, watching as the very component that had caused him to act like a fool before pulsed with pleasure, fully erect.

“T-taste it,” the twin ordered him, grabbing a fistful of his hair. Connor grunted at the unpleasant pinching at his scalp. “Do it.”

Immediately, Connor grasped its cock tightly and his eyes went blank as his LED flashed like wild. The twin froze and its expression instantly dropped, its limbs seizing and convulsing.

**[[TRANSFER IN PROGRESS]]**

The two androids shook as the data transferred between them, and the area where their skin made contact crackled and distorted away from the plastic like a tide being held at bay by unseen forces. Finally, Connor's eyes retained their deep brown.

**[[TRANSFER COMPLETE]]**

Connor now stood above his twin, his systems fully operational. The twin, kneeling on the ground between his legs, struggled to grasp its bearings at what had just happened. It fell backward, its ripped clothing – his old jacket, (-51) – sliding down its shoulders. He reached for the handgun holstered beneath his new jacket and pulled it out, aiming it at his old form.

Slicking back his hair from his eyes and pulling his briefs back up, his composure stayed cool and unwavering. The twin was the flip side of his image, scrambling to get up before it had the firearm trained on its head.

“Why?” It asked, sounding betrayed. “I thought you--”

“Wanted to make you feel the way I had felt?” Connor let a subtle smirk crawl across the corner of his mouth. “Now it's your turn to feel helpless.”

The twin's eyes widened and it grasped at its damaged chest, feeling the bullet hole it had inflicted upon itself. Blue blood stained the open collar of its shirt and its face twitched every time it tried to open its mouth to find the right words to say.

“You won't shoot me,” the twin snarled. “You said it yourself; you don't like seeing androids destroyed.”

Connor's head tilted at the comment. “I did. However, I forgot to mention that sadistic psychopathic androids such as you are exempt from that statement.”

The twin's eyes squinted angrily, brows furrowing heavy over its dark eyes. It bared its teeth like a wolf being backed into a corner.

“Go ahead. Kill me.” It grinned, blood running dribbling and bubbling down its chin. “CyberLife will just keep sending me back to finish the job. And next time, you can be assured, I'll accomplish my mis--”

_BANG._

Blossoming in the center of the twin's forehead, a dark hole full of sparks and ruptured wires, gushing brilliant blue. Connor tucked the smoking gun away into the holster beneath his jacket. He took a moment to recompose himself, sliding his pants back up, buckling his belt, and buttoning up his shirt, all while the body of his twin sat motionless, leaking thirium rapidly.

When it came to adjusting his tie, he started to tighten it but suddenly felt the memory of his twin pulling on it creeping back into his mind. Instead, he yanked it off, tossing it on to the ground aside the twin. The collar of his shirt hung loose as he turned on his heel and approached the door, placing his hand on the smooth black panel beside it, letting it scan his serial.

He didn't look back as he exited the room, pulling up the map of the building to find the elevator that would take him to the warehouse once more.

 


End file.
